


But I'll lie if I have to

by runphoebe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time Bottoming, Getting Together, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Rimming, Rookie Year, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6665308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runphoebe/pseuds/runphoebe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything about Patrick’s body is so at odds with itself. Jonny sometimes gets caught up in the delicacy of Patrick’s wrists, his ankles, so fragile when Jonny circles them with his big fingers, and he forgets the way Patrick carries strength in his shoulders, banded all through his core. He’s tiny and fierce, the soft glow of his skin drawing Jonny deceptively in, masking all this energy quelled just beneath the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I'll lie if I have to

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nuuclears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuuclears/gifts).



> Gratuitous rookie porn. I genuinely do plan on revising/extending/expanding this one day relatively soon, but I also wanted to post something a little fluffy after that game last night :/ so this is it in its original form, two tiny bb rookies getting it on. 
> 
> This is largely based on two gifs: [this](http://1988afterdark.tumblr.com/post/141590071983/torigates-kanermussed-up-still-from-the-night) and [this](http://1988afterdark.tumblr.com/post/143187622636) (VERY NSFW) (JUST IMAGINE HIM WITH LONGER HAIR IN THIS ONE)
> 
> Content Warning: Unprotected Sex (anal sex without a condom/no discussion of why that's a Terrible Idea)
> 
> Title is from Take Care by Drake

Jonny wakes up overheated as hell, sweat pooling in all the little dips of his body. Shit, the AC in their room must’ve broken overnight, because it feels like a fucking sauna. The sheets are all tangled around his ankles where he’d kicked them off during the night, caught in the bend of his legs, and he kicks them the rest of the way off so he can sprawl his legs out wide in either direction.

Next to him, Patrick shifts and mumbles in his sleep and Jonny fumbles a hand across the bare skin of his back, into the mess of curls spilling across the pillow, fingers rubbing slow and soothing across his scalp until he goes back down, drowsily nuzzling into the pillow he’s cuddling.

Jonny rolls onto his side to give himself a better angle to rub Patrick’s head, and he’s briefly stunned by the sight of him, all blond hair and fair skin shrouded in the weak, gold light filtering through the shitty hotel room curtains.

When he’s awake, Patrick is constantly in motion; running his hands through his hair, licking his lips, scratching the side of his face. He’s got more nervous tics than anyone Jonny’s ever met, just little things that Jonny likes to catalogue, but they mean Jonny doesn’t get to see him like this very often - still and at peace, sunlight spilling down the arch of his back.

He’s gorgeous. Jonny’s bowled over by it, especially since he doesn’t let himself think about Patrick that way when they’re exchanging furtive handjobs under the covers or the spray of the shower, all hopped up on the adrenaline of winning. He’s intimately familiar with Patrick’s dick; how it’s cut, unlike Jonny’s, the pink flushed smoothness of it, the way it eagerly strains up against Patrick’s belly when he's trying not to thrust his hips demandingly toward Jonny's hand, but the rest of him feels unexplored to Jonny.

He could study the slope of Patrick's shoulders, the brush of his hair against the curve of his neck, the dip of his back, thick with muscles, for hours and still find pieces of him he's never noticed before. It makes his gut twist uncomfortably.

They’ve been doing this thing for a while. Patrick is so private, but maybe Jonny should know him better by now.

Jonny realizes his hand has stopped stroking Patrick’s hair when Patrick makes a grumpy noise, pushing his head back into Jonny’s palm. He immediately resumes, fingertips light against his scalp.

“Sorry, sorry, baby,” Jonny whispers, letting the endearment slip out before he has a chance to stop himself. Jonny’s pretty easy with stuff like that toward his teammates, but not with Patrick when they’re like this. Patrick’s eyes slit open, head twisting briefly to lock on Jonny’s face, but he doesn’t say anything and his gaze doesn’t give anything away. They flutter shut again when Jonny digs his thumb into a particularly tense knot of muscle at the base of his neck.

“Why’re you up?” Patrick asks eventually, mumbled into his pillow. “Got a late morning.”

“I think the AC broke,” he says. “I can’t sleep when I’m hot.”

Patrick hums, lashes casting long shadows down his cheeks. “Prissy,” he says, already half asleep again, but he kicks the sheets down off his legs like he’s hot too now that Jonny’s mentioned it.

Jonny and Patrick sleep naked in the same bed at least half the nights they share a hotel room, but the sight of Patrick’s bare ass, round and pale in the glow of the early morning sun, still has his cock thickening up against his thigh in a shocking burst of arousal. This feels like something else that doesn’t belong to Jonny; a part of Patrick he doesn’t touch except to drag Patrick closer to his body when they’re grinding against each other, cocks trapped hard and wet between them.

Patrick’s right - they have a late morning, and they had a late night, too. He should curl himself back around Patrick’s body and catch a few more hours of sleep while he has the chance. He _should_.

Instead, he lets his hand detangle from Patrick’s hair and skim gently down his bare back, thumb tracing the indention of his spine.

Everything about Patrick’s body is so at odds with itself. Jonny sometimes gets caught up in the delicacy of Patrick’s wrists, his ankles, so fragile when Jonny circles them with his big fingers, and he forgets the way Patrick carries strength in his shoulders, banded all through his core. He’s tiny and fierce, the soft glow of his skin drawing Jonny deceptively in, masking all this energy quelled just beneath the surface.

He’s the first guy Jonny’s ever hooked up with, but Jonny likes that about it so far; the way he can push and Patrick doesn’t give.

His hand slows when he gets to Patrick’s wide lower back, flattening his palm across it just to feel how Patrick’s muscles tense in acknowledgement of his presence. Jonny doesn’t really know what he’s doing, and Patrick’s probably even more confused, but he knows he doesn’t want to stop. He’s got enough leftover sleepiness fogging his brain not to worry about what he might be fucking up by doing this.

When Jonny’s fingertips skate over the curve of his ass, Patrick spreads his legs just barely, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. His cheeks are still clenched too tightly together for Jonny to see his hole, but the dark shadow of his balls is evident between his thighs, full and tempting. Jonny’s suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to just bury his face in there, let Patrick ride that strong ass back onto his mouth.

It’s a gut punch, the awareness that he wants something like that from Patrick, and he doesn’t know where it’s coming from or why it’s coming on so strong except that he’s tired and overheated and Patrick looks so pretty in the sunlight. His defenses are down.

Slow and easy, he pushes himself up and over until he’s kneeling between Patrick’s legs, cupping his ass cheeks in his palms. He can feel the way Patrick squeezes them, back a broad arch of tension, as he turns his head to look at Jonny.

He needs to _say_ something. Jonny’s waiting for him to say something, to tell Jonny to stop, but Patrick just looks at Jonny, all pretty pink flush and blue eyes, curls tumbling over his forehead. He trusts Jonny.

“Okay?” Jonny whispers, hands sliding down Patrick’s ass to cup the backs of his thighs. He doesn’t exactly know what he’s asking Patrick for, but his dick is aching between his legs and he can see how Patrick’s is caught between his belly and the mattress, probably leaking on the sheets with every minute push of Patrick’s hips.

Patrick swallows, throat clicking loud enough for Jonny to hear. “Okay,” he echoes, ass poised just slightly in the air. “ _Jonny_.”

“Yeah,” Jonny groans, heady with it. Patrick’s on his stomach for him, ass up. Off the ice, this is the biggest rush Jonny’s ever felt in his life.

Slowly, he skims his thumbs up Patrick’s thighs, the edges of his crease until he tugs them apart, spreading Patrick open and baring his hole. Patrick moans at the same time that Jonny lets out a rough exhale, and he works his hips into the mattress, like being exposed for Jonny’s gaze is getting him even harder.

“Taze, what the fuck,” Patrick whines, muffled enough that Jonny realizes his face is mashed into the pillow.

Jonny hesitates, thumbing gently at the furl of skin and licking his lips when Patrick moans again, broken in a way that Jonny’s never heard before. “Want me to stop?” he asks, barely pushing inside.

Patrick turns his face out of the pillow and it’s - _fuck_ , it’s a mess, lips bitten all swollen and red, cheeks pink with embarrassment and arousal, eyes just the slightest bit damp with tears. Jonny has to brace his forehead on the swell of Patrick’s ass for a moment. “Fuck you,” Patrick spits out, as blatant of a ‘please don’t stop’ as Jonny’s probably ever going to get from him, he thinks. “I can fucking handle it, asshole.”

Jonny grins against his skin, soft and malleable, biting it gently before he spreads his thumbs wide and buries his face between Patrick’s cheeks, kissing from his smooth taint up to the furrow of his hole. He has to take a minute, just exhaling wetly over Patrick’s rim, because, fuck, he’s never even seen Patrick here before today and now he’s got his mouth on him, and he wants to get it on him even more.

The first time he drags his tongue over him, Patrick cries out sharply, a sound Jonny knows would travel through the thin walls if Patrick weren’t back to biting the pillow. He tries to shove his hips back into Jonny’s face, but Jonny holds him steady, thumbs still spreading him so wide for Jonny’s mouth.

Jonny has gone down on girls before, but this doesn’t feel like that, the intimacy of it making him flush all the way down his chest, how he and Patrick are both practically laid out on their stomachs on the bed, his face buried in Patrick’s ass, Patrick’s legs spread around his shoulders. He licks Patrick all over, wet messy strokes that drip all the way down to his balls, then makes out with his hole, working the tip of his tongue inside.

“Holy _shit_ , Jonny, holy shit,” Patrick chants. “Oh, fuck, your tongue’s _inside_ me, Jonny, holy fucking _shit_.”

Jonny groans just thinking about that, what it means, and he’s hauling Patrick up onto his knees before he can even think about it, shoulders down and ass up and legs still spread so Jonny can get on his own knees in between and eat out Patrick’s ass, reaching around to give him the sloppiest handjob in the world.

Part of him is regretful that he can’t speak to Patrick while he does this, but he’s mostly glad for the filter, unsure what sort of sweet nothings might fall out of his mouth right now, so overcome with appreciation for Patrick and his body.

Tentatively, Jonny pushes his tongue back inside just a little bit, a little overwhelmed by the weirdness of it, but Patrick seems to like when he does that, clenching down hard around it and whining into the pillow. He keeps it shallow, driving his tongue into Patrick in time with the pull of his hand over Patrick’s cock.

When he twists his hand over the head of Patrick’s cock, his thigh muscles quiver, threatening to give out on him. Jonny wraps his free arm around Patrick’s middle and holds him steady, bracing him as he jerks him off and tongue-fucks him simultaneously, uncaring of the increasing volume of Patrick’s cries.

“I’m gonna, Jonny, I’m gonna -, jesus, jesus, oh _fuck_ ,” Patrick moans, rocking back and forth between that small, caught space of Jonny’s mouth and his hand, seeking the pressure of each and whining when the other is gone. “Oh, _fuuuck_ ,” he groans, spilling hot all over Jonny’s hand, dick twitching violently as Jonny works him through it. His ass is a vise around Jonny’s tongue, only releasing when Jonny lets go of his oversensitive dick and Patrick lets out a shaky exhale, forcing his body to relax.

Jonny only pulls back minutely at first, resting his forehead on Patrick’s ass while he catches his breath. He’s a mess, face covered in spit, hand dripping with Patrick’s come and cock so hard Jonny feels it like a constant ache between his legs.

He makes himself kneel up, tugging open Patrick’s cheek to look at his hole. It’s red and puffy, looking all fucked out, but also looser than it had before, like Jonny could just shove two fingers up in there, see if Patrick liked those as much as he liked his tongue.

“Fuck, I gotta,” Jonny says, lightheaded, starting to stroke himself with his come-covered hand. It’s not going to take long, and he’s going to come on Patrick right where he was eating him out just a minute before.

Suddenly, Patrick makes a wounded sort of noise, wriggling out from Jonny and brushing his hand off his cock, pushing him over until Jonny’s flat on his back on the bed, confused as hell and still so hard. Patrick’s kneeling above him, fierce and tiny as always, face hilariously determined behind the deep red flush and tear tracks, soft cock vulnerable where it hangs between his legs.

“Kaner, come the fuck on,” Jonny groans, shifting his hips fruitlessly when he goes for his cock against and Patrick slaps his hand away. “I’m fucking dying, man.”

“Wait,” Patrick says, prickly, like he’s the one who’s allowed to be irritated here. He fumbles for something caught up in the mass of pillows and withdraws his hand with the bottle of lube they used to jerk each other off the night before, and Jonny sighs and tries to settle. If Patrick’s going to give him a handjob, he can try to relax at least a little.

When Patrick slicks him up, Jonny murmurs appreciatively and closes his eyes, so he’s not prepared to feel Patrick’s leg swing over his body, knees planted on either side of him.

His eyes fly open, hands clutching instinctively at Patrick’s hips as he positions himself over Jonny’s cock, biting his lip determinedly, eyes a little glazed over. “Patrick,” he moans, weak. It’s meant as a protest, but Jonny’s sure it doesn’t come across that way and he doesn’t think he wants it to. “Patrick, you can’t - you’re not -,”

 _It’s going to hurt_ , he wants to say. _You haven’t even had a finger and I’m pretty sure you’ve never done this before_.

But he can’t get the words out. Patrick’s already sinking down on him, mouth dropping open on a pained exhalation of breath as the head of Jonny’s cock breaches his hole. Jonny whimpers, hands squeezing reflexively at Patrick’s hips, undoubtedly marking up that pale, perfect skin as he tries not to go off just from getting the tip of his dick in Patrick’s ass. He’d never let him live that down.

Jonny's never been in something this tight before. His head is spinning with the need to thrust up, but Patrick’s hands are firm on his chest, holding him down.

“Don’t move, Jonny, don’t fucking move,” he says, voice strained and fraught as he sinks onto Jonny’s cock.

“I’m not, baby, I’m not,” Jonny promises breathlessly, rubbing his hands against the crinkled hairs on Patrick’s thighs, grounding him. It’s almost impossible to think with the tight clench of Patrick’s ass around his cock, taking him deeper every second, but Jonny’s struck by how beautiful Patrick is, the arch of his body illuminated by the glow from the window.

Patrick whines a little when he’s fully seated, fingers flexing against Jonny’s chest, teeth working frantically over his lower lip. “Okay?” Jonny asks again, hoarse. He just barely resists the urge to reach around and feel the place where their bodies are connected, the slick, tight pull of Patrick’s rim around his cock.

“Hurts,” Patrick says, shifting on Jonny’s lap. Jonny strokes over his soft cock, pleased when it twitches in his hand.

“I know,” he says softly. Every word feels too loud in the quiet of the hotel room. “Does it feel good, too?”

Patrick considers this, shifting again until he hits a spot that makes him groan and curl in on himself, body bent over Jonny's. “ _Yeah_ ,” he answers, sounding wrecked as hell. “‘S good, right there.”

“Okay,” Jonny whispers, trying not to move, so he can keep getting Patrick right there where it feels good.

Patrick lifts up and sinks down just barely, shuddering all the way through his body as his rim contracts around Jonny. He’s still bracing himself on Jonny’s chest, hair framing his face in a mass of curls as he leans over Jonny, brushing their mouths nearly close enough to kiss. Jonny’s entire body is pulled so tight that he feels like one wrong move and it’ll be over, he’s so close to shooting inside Patrick already.

He reaches up, brushing Patrick’s curls off his sweaty forehead. “Pat,” he pleads, nearly a whimper. He’s so on edge he can feel the shockey vibrations of pleasure thrumming all through his fingertips, down to his toes. “Baby, I - Jesus, look at you.”

Maybe Patrick’s not looking for that kind of emotion from Jonny; Jonny doesn’t know. But he seems to like it in that moment, spilling over raw and unfiltered as Patrick takes him so intimately into his body that Jonny’s nearly overcome with it. His eyes sparkle at Jonny for a moment, so softly pleased with himself, and before Jonny knows what’s happening, he’s lifting his hips and slamming them back down, sliding Jonny’s cock in and out of the tight squeeze of his hole with easy rolls of his hips.

“Oh _god_ , oh fuck,” Jonny moans, helplessly thrusting up a little, chasing that tight, wet heat.

Patrick brushes his lips against Jonny’s jawline. “Don’t move, remember?” he says, so tight up against Jonny’s body that they can both feel his hardening cock caught in the space between them, trailing damply on Jonny’s stomach as he rocks up and down on Jonny’s cock.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jonny gasps, forcing himself to lay flat on the bed, hands flexing restlessly as he tries to just weather the pleasure Patrick’s inflicting on him without coming, without even trying to chase down his orgasm. His instincts are screaming at him to flip Patrick onto his stomach and shove one knee up the bed, open him up all nice and easy so Jonny can work his cock back inside and fuck that pretty little hole until he comes, but this is Patrick’s show, and Jonny is all Patrick’s.

He moans when Patrick brings their mouths together, just the lightest brush of their lips, and almost tells Patrick to stop when he remembers where his mouth has been, but Patrick doesn’t seem to care, and Jonny really, really wants to kiss him right now. So instead, he skims both hands over Patrick’s head, tangling through his curls as he cups his skull, fingertips scratching light and careful. Patrick whines, mouth open, tongue darting out to lick at Jonny’s lips as he breathes into his mouth.

Patrick’s thighs are flexing against Jonny’s sides, little moans getting fucked out of his mouth every time he bounces on Jonny’s cock. Jonny doesn’t think he’s going to be able to come again, but he’s hard enough to make Jonny’s spine tingle with pride, all pleased with the fact that his cock did that to Patrick, and with the knowledge that Patrick’s probably going to want to do this again.

“Patrick,” Jonny moans when he tightens up around him. The overload of sensations are too much for Jonny: Patrick’s tight ass around his dick, the wet drag of precome over his belly, Patrick’s silky smooth hair between his fingers. Everything is amplified when Jonny’s this close to the edge; even the rough scratch of the cheap hotel sheets beneath him feels like it’s hurtling him closer to orgasm. “I’m sorry, I can’t - I’ve gotta -,”

“C’mon, Jonny,” Patrick urges, rolling his hips in this way that gets Jonny all snug up inside him, clearly pressing against something good if the way Patrick’s mouth drops open is anything to go by, and that’s it, game over for Jonny. He comes harder than he can ever remember in his life, shooting all inside Patrick’s ass before Patrick whines and pulls off, letting the last spurts spill over his fucked out hole, the tender skin of his inner thighs.

“Sorry,” Patrick whispers, collapsing down onto Jonny’s chest. “It was a lot,” he says, muffled into Jonny’s skin. Jonny’s hand are still tangled in his hair, but he brings one down to sweep down the line of his back, skin all tacky with sweat under Jonny’s fingers. Jonny’s sweaty from the stress of it, of forcing himself not to come too soon, but Patrick’s been working himself hard in this hot fucking room and he’s practically dripping, heartbeat racing against Jonny’s chest.

“It’s okay,” Jonny says, holding him. He feels like an idiot, because there’s so much more that he wants to say to Patrick, but he doesn’t have the words for it. Jonny knows this has to mean something, but he also knows he can be overwhelming and Patrick is easily overwhelmed.

Jonny thinks his silence must be oppressive now, waiting so long to say something that it’s become awkward, but he feels stuck in it.

Above him, Patrick huffs out a breath. He reaches awkwardly to grab Jonny’s hand that’s still threaded through his hair and laces their fingers together, resting it on the mattress.

“We should - should shower,” Jonny says, thick, voice all tangled up with emotion. His heart is pounding through his chest and he’s certain Patrick can feel the reverberations. He swallows around a crushing wave of fondness, hand squeezing Patrick’s reflexively when he feels Patrick’s small grin against his chest.

“In a minute,” Patrick sighs, settling against him, thumb sweeping over the back of his hand. “We have time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> Come hmu on [tumblr](http://runphoebe.tumblr.com) where I post almost entirely Chicago Blackhawks and cry about Jonathan Toews and PKane. I would also love it if you gave me prompts as I am terrible at coming up with what to write by myself!!


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